


To Mute the Voices

by DrDrugtor



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Adora Needs Therapy (She-Ra), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Crossover, Dark, Eventual Adora/Catra (She-Ra), F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Medication, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Military Backstory, Multiple Crossovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29784201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrDrugtor/pseuds/DrDrugtor
Summary: Four years of continuous warfare before the final victory. A victory that cost more than what the Etherian Liberation Front was ready for. But it matters little, for they have won. Order in Etheria is finally re-established, and with that, the survivors of the 47th ‘Rebellion’ Company must find their way back to society by sticking together, helping each other through the daily struggles created by the scars and losses of the past. Will they succeed, or will they succumb to their trauma and fall like the rest of their brothers and sisters?
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, to summarize, I have been reading fictions for years and have been writing for quite a while now, but never really published any of them, until now. I still genuinely think I suck at writing, therefore I only planned this particular story as a one-shot, I might even delete it later. I did have a story in mind, but unless there's some interest I will not continue. Constructive criticism is more than welcome as I seek to improve my writing. Also, English is not my first language so if you see typos or you notice some words that are used repeatedly, it's cause of that.

The sound of gunfire. A distinctive sound that normally sends chills down one's spine. The sudden burst of a round that sends a ripple through the air, penetrating it's way into the target in a literal and figurative manner. The sound would burrow it's way into the ears of those unfortunate enough to hear it, and, if they are even less fortunate, physical pain would follow, digging it's way into whatever it can find in it's destructive path. If the designated, or accidental target's life comes to an end, it could be considered a blessing. They would not have to live with the memory of gunfire bouncing around in their skull, or remember the pain it would cause. In a single moment, they would just cease to exist. Granted, the last thing they'd hear is gunfire, but it would not matter, for their brain wouldn't have enough time to process such events. Or so people say.

If the target is cursed enough to not die, then would come what a soldier of the 47th ‘Rebellion’ Company was feeling right now. A pain in her abdomen, perhaps her chest too. A blurry vision, combined with the usual sounds of gunfire, but today, something else was on the menu. Something she rarely heard, however, when she did, it would haunt her for days, if not weeks. The sickening sound of screams. The volume of the bullets fired from all directions seemed so distant, so insignificant, so quiet and shy when screams of both civilian and military personel were among the opera of sounds that surrounded her, as if lulling her to sleep. She groaned in pain but made no attempt to get up, instead letting chaos reign victorious and bask in it's presence. Her surroundings were red and orange due to all the fire, lighting up the normally quiet and peaceful night sky of Etheria with such intensity that she wondered if the Admiral could see the signs of conflict from the sea. She stared at the stars, as if yearning to die, to be put out of her misery.

It was a stupid childhood thing of hers to look at the stars at night and talk to them. Ask them how they were, what they were doing, or if they saw anything beautiful in space. Occasionally ask them for favours, but never for herself. Only for those she cared about. She always wanted others to be happy, to be safe. To have a life of peace and merriment, not one of terror, sadness, anxiety, fear or anger. It is why she joined the army in the first place, to have a chance at being part of something bigger than herself and make that wish come true, no matter the cost, even if that said cost was her very own life…it never really had much value for her either way.

A figure came by. It hovered over her like a guardian angel, shouting something that could only have been her name. Adora. It seemed alien to the girl…no, the woman. The times of innocence were long gone for the blonde, instead replaced by traumatizing experiences, especially after she joined the Liberation Front. The person towering over her placed their hand on her shoulders. Adora realised she was asked a question. She weakly looked at the person and opened her mouth to reply. As if the Universe demanded her silence, a deafening sound shut her up, debris flying up in the air. When dirt caked the woman and her saviour, she was grabbed by the shoulder straps of her vest. She groaned in pain as the pressure on her body reminded her of her injuries. She looked around and her memory came flooding back.

Operation Blacklight.

Horde Prime.

The ambush.

Adora looked around, this time with intention, her senses straightening a tad, to get her bearings straight. Civilian and army vehicles now smoldering piles of scrap, houses either completely leveled or decorated in so much bullet holes that in a certain state of mind, one would think the walls were made of Swiss cheese. The ground was now a figurative cart collecting as much corpses as possible, ranging from man to woman, and even children. It's enough to make a grown adult cry and bile to rise up in their throat, ready to escape any second. To make matters even worse, the majority of these said corpses had weapons around them, including the children. In school she has heard stories of the Hitler Youth from world war two, and it sent chills down all the way to her core. She believed that such a horrifying event would never happen again, that humanity learned it's lesson from such a devastating war. It appears the Universe has a sick sense of humour.

She gazed around, scanning each individual with robot-like precision, taking in every detail of their face even in the state she is now. Imagining the lies they were told about the cause they were fighting for. Being manipulated into a cold, killing machine for the sake of nothing but the personal gain of one, twisted man. How their lives were stripped away by them, the Liberation Front, in less than a second, a blink of an eye, and a movement of their trigger finger. She wondered how their lives would have turned around, had they intervened sooner, or tried to negotiate harder with the madman the Horde called their leader.

Adora imagined these people, not as armed civilians, but as regular, everyday citizens, going on with their days, going to work, picking up groceries, all the things people normally do. It was a strange thing, one Adora could never actually describe with words. The surreality of the way things go in life sometimes, how fucked up they can become.

She turned her head a bit, looking at a girl next to an APC, bathing in her own pool of blood, a blood-soaked M9 Beretta next to her. She remembered how it was her that shot the poor girl. As if the scenario couldn't have been worse, not only was she forced to kill a girl who was definitely not even a teenager, she couldn't even prevent the death of one of her comrades who got shot in the neck by the twisted girl. She was scrawny looking, thin as bones, presumably from the lack of rations they recieved and sported a long, wild brown hair that was now partially wet from the blood. Her cute, girlish looking clothes were damp from the rain cascading down onto her lifeless body, her white, worn-out sneakers became a canvas of red and brown. Freckles dotted her face, sharp nose and jaw now touching the concrete below. Her eyes, drained off color and drowned with blood stared at Adora, as if asking, _Why?_

She reminded her of someone. Someone she…

She blinked.

She had so many questions. What has happened? Were they winning? Is Prime dead? Was any of this real? Has she died and went to Hell, where she was forced to relive her death again and again as a punishment for the people she had wronged? To rot for severing the life-strings of so many people, as if she had the right to bear the title of grim reaper? She couldn't tell. She did however notice one particular person among the crowd of now lost souls. The telltale sign of their leader, Captain Mara, whose signature brown ponytail was now barely visible due to it being camouflaged with the dirt beneath it.

Her army attire that stood out in the crowd of soldiers despite it being almost identical to everyone else's. How she would carry herself despite the losses they have suffered throughout the years. How she would confront each and every member of the company, shining as their beacon of hope in the darkest of times.

Now she laid dead, the distance between them only increasing with the passage of time. The Corporal remembered how she was administering aid to her Captain behind a hastily erected sandbag wall prior to when she too was shot. Their last, short lived conversation replaying in her mind.

“I'm sorry…” Whispered Adora in a raspy, dried out voice. She had failed, again.

It is said that a person's life flashes in front of them at the moment of their death. There were a few members of the company who believed that this was your body's way of reliving every important moment of your life, subconsciously telling you that it is time to go. To relive what made you happy, what made you the person you were your whole life, what you've become, for one last time, before the eternal slumber. For her, those particular collection of memories weren't exactly the greatest, but she didn't mind. She'd rather remember all of it instead of just the good. Life with only the good bits is just an illusion, mixing it with the bad bits is what gives it value, what makes it worth it all. She smiled as she thought of Finn. Always so positive, so jubilant, despite everything. Him, alongside Sergeant Jake and Bow were the ones that always forced you to smile, regardless of how hard you tried not to. She could only hope they were okay.

She was somewhat aware of her surroundings, but chose to zone out a while ago. It took too much effort to make sense of what was happening. She was moved into a building of some sorts with the ceiling all but gone, giving her a breathtaking image of the tall walls of the structure getting narrower as it increased in height, it's highest point leaving the moon and some of the stars free for her to stare as it was the point that crumbled as an artillery shell hit it, judging by the width of missing chunk of infrastructure. The view was obscured by the figure who dragged her away, clutching the sides of her head with their hands. She recognised the person. Sergeant Hordak. His face was a mess, dirt smudged on his cheeks and some of his black hair in his face. “Stay with me Graiskul!" Shouted the man, grabbing the medic's supplies and attending to the woman's wounds.

Adora thought of how she discovered her family name. If only the circumstances were different, she actually would have been happy, in a way. She always wished to know who she was, why her parents abandoned her, if that was the truth, anyway. It would have given her closure. Instead, she was left with nothing of her past, aside from an old dusty file from a war long since forgotten. Nothing to remind her of who she truly was. Perhaps it was so that Adora would realise…she was nothing. Nothing but a tool of power, a weapon, ready to be discarded and replaced like everybody else she could not save.

Because she was weak.

Because she was stupid.

Because she was naive.

Because she was not enough.

Everything is her fault. If only she had never existed, everything would be better. Everything would be perfect. These self-destructive words and thoughts have plagued the woman ever since she left for the front, but of course it wasn't the only reason. There was simply so much more to it than that, always has been. But it mattered little anymore. Adora always wanted to believe in destiny, that the Universe had a grand plan just for her. It was selfish indeed, but the sole reason she yearned for it was so that she wouldn't feel so lost. So that she'd have something to believe in. So she wouldn't give up. But by now she knew that this, was Adora Graiskul's destiny. Not to be some sort of chosen one who would change the lives of millions, if not the entire planet for the better, to ensure humanity would evolve, to stick together and solve all the problems of the world through unity, but to die in a meaningless war, for nothing. She observed Hordak's face, his normally cold, melancholic face now filled with fear and worry. She pitied the man. He worries so much for someone that doesn't matter.

Her body feels numb. She barely feels the pain Hordak causes as he tries to mend the wounds, his hands already stained in blood. A shout was heard again. She saw two more figures approach her. One was a brown man, one of her best friends, Brian Bowman, a terrified expression adorning his usually cheerful face. He was panicking. The other figure barked something the blonde could not decipher, and Bow raised his weapon, standing guard. She looked over to the other person already helping Hordak. It was Viktor Volkov. He was a peculiar man. As melancholic as Hordak, yet sometimes just as jittery as Bow or Finn.

Adora decided to stare at the moon again. The last time she has spoken to the stars was the night before she was sent to war. Before her heart broke to pieces. Before she became a monster. Before the voices.

It was now that her eternal spark of hope, of positivity, has finally been extinguished. Her entire life was consisted of her fighting the ever so stubborn negative thoughts that seemed to drag her down the harder she tried to drown them. Everything she believed in her entire life, her beliefs, her morals, her dreams of the future, has been thoroughly destroyed as realization hit her harder than any bullet ever could.

She was going to die. The thought didn't bother her in the slightest bit. Her life held no significance either way. The only reason she was distraught was because she felt like there was simply still so much she could have done in her life. Not for herself, but for others. To spread joy and merriment. To inspire. To be there for others, to help them through their tough times, to elevate them so they could achieve their potential in life. The ability to make people happy, for them to have a life she long ago wanted to have was what drove the blonde to wake up in the morning.

The moon's glow seemed to grow just for Adora. Her pessimistic side told her it was time to go. And yet, her stupid, childish side told her that there was one more thing she could perhaps do. That although she would die, it appears the Universe was listening, just this once. That every choice she has made has led her to this moment. That everything that has transpired was so that Adora could make that one wish come true. Pessimism and Hope fought in her mind, spanning for what felt like ages. Shouts and gunfire began assaulting her eardrums once more, this time, far closer.

With tears in her eyes and already down the sides of her face, she looked at the stars and swallowed, forming her last coherent thoughts as nothing more but weak words of plea. A litany was on her mind, but she doubted satan would wait for the soldier to finish it, so her brain instead summerised her thoughts for her in a rather corny, yet somehow just sufficient way to explain what she wanted from the Universe.

“Just…let everyone else be happy…”

A huge explosion shook the place as the walls around her crumbled. The night sky and it's inhabitants disappeared and were replaced by the walls, collapsing all around her. She closed her eyes, ready to meet the hooded figure that was death itself, extending it's bony hand for her.

Before that though, she imagined the only thing that kept her together all this time. Before and after the heartbreak. No matter how much she wanted to make others happy, there was one person in particular that she wanted to feel joy more than anything. To hear her squeaky laugh, her crooked smile that showed her feline canines, her tail swishing around in excitement, or the cherry on of the cake, the thing she would kill for in any way, was to hear that gentle rumble, that soft purr from her whenever Adora gave her physical affection.

Her sweet poison.

“Just…let my Catra be happy…”

And with that, the noises stopped.


	2. The Clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life appears to be going well for a certain magicat, or at least, that is what she tells herself. But what happens when on a fateful night she is forced to finally face the demons of her past she has been busy running away from?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, seeing the kudos and the comments I decided to continue the story, so, that's a positive. Bear in mind, there will be disturbing content as you could see by the tags, but I will make sure to put up warnings at the beginning of a chapter, and also provide you with certain lines like this '========' to alert you of certain content ahead, to avoid discomfort. Also, feel free to point out spelling mistakes or share your critiques if you have any.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. :)

Wetness. It was the first thing she felt. That, and her face getting irritated by something. She smiled the moment she realised who the culprit was. “Melog, stoooop.” Whined the feline to her pet and family member. Just like her owner, Melog didn't listen to her owner and continued her barrage of licks. Her owner grumbled in annoyance. As if to further agitate the brunette, Melog bit her chin. “Ow!” Yelped the hybrid and sat up in her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, shaking her head alongside her wild mane. She stared daggers at her cat who repositioned themselves to sit on her thighs, tilting their head to stare back, blue eyes faking innocence. The burgundy-colored cat made no attempt to move, forcing her to stay put as per the sacred law of being the owner-…scratch that, being the slave of a cat. It was stupid, but the girl took these laws very seriously, despite their silly, meme-ish nature.

“So, we're just gonna stare at each other and do nothing the entire day?” Asked the girl. A 'mrph' came from the cat, as if the question itself was unnecessary because the answer was obvious. She laid back in her bed, a grin plastered on her face. “Works for me.” Her hand reached out to grab a cigarette from her nightstand but Melog meowed, charging and butting heads with their owner, demanding immediate attention. Also, they hated the smoke, so, being the good slave she is, the brunette didn't smoke when Melog was on her. Instead, she grabbed her phone and started scrolling through social media, multitasking as her other hand began petting Melog. The small cat began purring, and the hybrid felt a rumble building up in her chest as well. It was their thing to wake up together, do nothing for hours and just be around each other, their presence bringing peace and quiet in the normally busy house she lived in. She connected her phone to her bluetooth speaker and put in some of her favourite music from Starset through spotify. Staying true to their habbits, Melog stood up and stretched their legs, making the hybrid chuckle as she felt Melog's legs stimulate her chest with the vibrations. The cat jumped all the way from the bed to her desk, unintentionally sliding forward as they landed on some of the papers their owner had on the table, earning yet another giggle from the hybrid. The smaller cat looked back, clearly annoyed at being laughed at, and jumped to the open window, sitting down at the sill, staring at already bustling city of Bright Moon.

The hybrid still couldn't believe she was in the Capital of Etheria. It has been years since her plane landed here, indicating the start of a new life in Bright Moon. The whole situation seemed so unreal for the brunette. A few years ago she was still working in the ‘Fright Zone’, as people nicknamed it, or Hordia nowadays, a rather infamous city as a bartender, barely scraping by, and now, she was living in the most populated, well-known city of Etheria, the polar opposite of where she grew up in a literal and figurative sense. Her younger self would have had a hard time deciding whether or not to laugh or puke at that revelation. She was fairly sure she couldn't do both at the same time. Not only was the anti-social hybrid living in the big city, but she also found herself a really cool job, one that she actually enjoyed. After years of going to Bright Moon's University, she graduated at the top of her class with an art major and started digital drawing on a professional level, starting her own Patreon account, a steady amount of money going to her bank-account every month.

Her vocabulary wasn't exactly Tolkien level, which explained why she couldn't find a word to properly describe the way her life turned out to be like.

She finally grabbed a cigarette and lit it, relishing the feeling of nicotine coursing through her system. Her phone rang, and with reflexes as fast as any cat-hybrid's, she swiped right and put the phone to her face without even bothering to look at the phone. She knew who it was anyway.

“Wassuuup Bitch?" Asked the hybrid and the person on the other end of the phone. Chuckling to themselves, the hybrid recovered faster and decided to answer first. “Not much, laying in bed, smoking, listening to music, the usual.”

“Yeah, I can hear it. Good to know you are a girl of culture as well. Anyways, I was wondering, are you free today?”

The hybrid extinguished her cigarette and put it on her tray. “Depends, what are we doing today Chloe?”

“We could go get some coffee, I heard there's a new cafe near the Uni that everyone's in love with.” She grimaced at that. That meant a lot of people would be there. As if sensing her distress, Chloe quickly saved the idea by explaining more about the place. “Don't worry, it's actually a lot like a bar, you can rent a table for yourself, and they are quite secluded with wooden frames separating them so you don't have to worry about people staring at your tail or whatever.”

“I don't give a shit what people think of me, I hate them in general." She defended herself. “Sure Catra, sure. So, are you in?”

“Sure.”

“Fuck yeah, I'm bringing some of the girls if you don't mind, okay? Maybe we could have a girls' night out sort of thing today." Catra sighed. Of course there was a catch. She had to remind herself constantly that Chloe Price could be just as deceptive as her. “I'll take that sigh as a sigh of ‘hella cool of you to bring others to the party'. Don't worry, I'm not bringing anyone whose eyes you wanna claw out." Catra laughed at that. “Well, if you do, you'll be accountable if they lose their eyes so it's not like I give a fuck.” Now it was Chloe's turn to laugh. “By the way, where are you? You usually just barge into my room or some shit."

“Yeah, well, decided I'll let you sleep in today. Figured you're gonna need it if you tried some of Patricia's homegrown stuff.”

“Pfff, yeah, honestly, I really needed it. Seriously though, her stuff is so next level. I think I get why she's always so fucking peaceful and friendly, she must be high as fuck all the time.” They wheezed at the feline's joke.

“Anyway, I gotta bail, I'll text you the address and when to meet there. See ya later scum.”

“See ya bitch.”

With that, the call ended. Catra let go of her phone as it landed with a soft thud on the bed. She decided to shower before she falls asleep. She stood up and stretched her limbs, groaning while doing so. She smelled her armpits and almost threw up. How Melog could stand her smell sometimes was beyond her, but she appreciated it nonetheless. Not like there are many out there whose olfactory senses are as refined as hers, but still, it just gave her another reason to be insecure.

Grabbing some fresh clothes, she sauntered towards to the bathroom, after locking her door of course. She scanned the small living room, looking for her friend. She has either left already or she's still in bed. Sabine usually crashes at her place in the guestroom that was basically hers by now. She looked at the clock on the wall just above the door that led outside her modest yet just a small bit luxurious house.

10:23

All things considered she woke up fairly early on this particular Saturday. Taking her time, she decided to take one long shower, making sure to use up all the hot water. She rubbed her scalp with her claws, purring to herself. After she was done, she dried herself and put on her preferred clothes. Tight, black ripped jeans, a red slim fit top crop and some black low rise socks. Her stomach grumbled, alarming Catra to get herself some food. She marched into the kitchen that merged together with the living room and opened the fridge. She growled to herself like any cat would upon discovering that there was no food of their liking present in the fridge. She did notice a very tasty-looking slice of cake, one that she was about to devour, but was stopped when a hand landed on the door of the fridge, alerting her. She squeaked and jumped, her feet leaving the ground for a moment in an almost comical fashion.

“What do you think you're doing?” Asked a short-haired girl, her mostly black hair with purple tips flowing as she tilted her head in suspicion. “Ch, nothing, I was just about to comment on how little food we have left and that we'll starve.” Retorted Catra. It was a lie, of course, she hadn't even noticed her roommate sneak up on her, which just goes to show how unfocused she is when she's hungry. “Yeah, sure, you totally weren't about to steal my lemon cake or anything.” Came forth the accusation as the girl, still in her underwear, closed the fridge door.

“I wasn't.” Grinned Catra. She knew her lie was not convincing, but she hadn't even tried, not really. “Uh-uh, I totally believe you." Her roommate stared at her expectantly. “So? Why are you even up? You usually don't even wake up 'till noon.”

“Yeah, well, I'm meeting Chloe and the girls at a new cafe near Uni. Also, I only smoked yesterday, so that's another reason.” The two shared a laugh. “Wow, what have you done to the Catra I know?”

“Oh shut it Sabine.” The feline stared at her friend for a second. “Don't you wanna come? It's been a while since you hung out with us.” The girl in question contemplated, biting her lip. There was something else on her mind that her face expressed, something Catra hasn't seen before. “Y'know what, yeah, I'm in. Just, give me some time to shower and we can go.” With that, Sabine marched into the bathroom and locked the door. Catra smirked, her canine showing. With a smug look on her face, she opened the fridge door again, grabbing the plate without a care in the world. The door was closed as she turned around, her tail swishing around wildly. She plopped onto the sofa, nibbling the lemon cake, waiting. She flicked her ears, waiting for a specific sound. Water started running from the showerhead, and with that, came a scream.

“Oh fuck you Catra!” The maniacal laugh of the cat was the only reply that was given to Sabine.

__________

To give Chloe some credit, the cafe truly was what she described it to be like. It was fancy-looking, not disgustingly so, but it was something to look up to and admire. The interior of the cafe was made dark oak wood, judging by it's exquisite, dark color that seemed to shine so much it almost hurt the feline's eyes the more she looked at it. She also had to respect the way the lights inside the cafe seemed to have a different effect on the environment. Ever since the beginning of time, the purpose of any source of light was to, well, light up something. To guide someone from one place to another. To mark the border of a more civilised place. To reveal the unknown. To not get lost, in a figurative or in a literal sense. However, the more time progressed, the more it felt like the only purpose for these sources were to just push away the darkness as much as possible, meaning that oftentimes these lights were blinding. For the cat-hybrid, the word blinding always had that said effect, hence why she always squinted even before entering places where the special effects were consisted of random coloured strobes. Her eyes adjusted of course, but she always had a hard time deciding whether or not the cause of her headache was the awful lights or the beverages.

However, as Catra entered the cafe, she instinctively squinted her eyes and adjusted her black baseball cap for the incoming assault of lights, but was pleasantly surprised to not feel anything. Her eyes widened for a second. The lighting inside was phenomenal. The retro-looking lamps on the walls and ceilings had a very pleasant, dark-yellow glow to them, so gentle that Catra could stare at it and not feel the need to claw her eyes out, and that said something. As if the lights themselves had a life of their own, like they were the siren of the sea, drawing in the clueless sailors to their demise. That, combined with the furniture had such aesthetics that it would please even the grumpiest of critics.

She looked around in an attempt to gather as much information as possible, approximate number of people, who they were, if Catra knew them anyway, and if they addressed her arrival. But Chloe was right, the tables were arranged in such a fashion that it was hard to see who exactly was sitting at a table, even if you had a better angle, courtesy of the wooden frames at the back of the seats neatly sheltering the identity of the occupants. So instead the cat decided to make a beeline to where the counter was, already eyeing the barista.

“Hey.” Catra greeted courtly, drawing the attention of the barista, who was scribbling something on a note.

“Oh, hey, sorry, didn't see you there. Busy day, y'know.” The barista smiled, her cheeks turning bright pink. Catra had half a mind to retort something sarcastic, but she was in a good mood due to messing with Sabine, so she decided against it, for now. “Yeah, I can guess. Anyway, is there a reservation on one of the tables by someone named Chloe Price?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

The barista whipped out a notebook from bellow the counter, her pink eyes scanning the pages. After a few seconds that felt like an hour for the anti-social cat, she looked up, her pink hair swaying as she shook her head. “I'm sorry, but there's no reservation by that name.” Catra only shook her head, not surprised at all. “Well, can I make one now?”

“Sure.” After the cat got herself a table in one of the corners of the cafe, she ordered herself an expresso and turned to leave. “Oh, wait, if someone comes to ask for you, what should I say to them? What's your name?" The feline turned her head, her yellow eye barely visible from under the shadow her baseball cap cast over her face.

“Catra.” With that, she continued towards her destination, not noticing the barista's facial expression shift from curiousity to one of horror.

__________

Catra absent-mindedly scrolled through her social media, finding a handful of memes that earned some giggles from the hybrid, her tail going back and forth. “Hey Scum.” Greeted Chloe in front of their table. She had shoulder-length hair that was dark green except the top, her trademarked lazy smile present on her face. She dressed casually, a black jacket with a white tank top, a pair of blue trousers and black boots.

“Hey Chloe.” Greeted Catra, looking up from her phone. “I knew you'd get us a table.”

“Yeah, fuck you by the way.” The green-haired snickered. She grabbed her phone and checked her messages. “Okay, so the girls are officially on their way to the rendezvous point. Oh this night's gonna be a blast.” Chloe exclaimed, her body visibly shaking. Catra raised an eyebrow at that. “Okay, you aren't normally this hiped for some girls' night out, so I assume you have a grand plan of some sort?”

“Fuck yeah I do. This night is gonna be hella cool sista, I'm telling you." Catra snorted at that. “Who even uses that word?”

“I do, dumbass.” The two decided to trade insults at each other for a few moments before someone came to their table. “Hey guys.” The bickering duo looked at who interrupted them. Chloe whistled. “Sabine Wren, didn't expect you here, although I definitely am not complaining.”

“Well, Catra asked if I wanted to hang out, and I did. Got a lot on my mind lately and I kinda need the distraction. Also, it really has been a while since I hung out with the squad, so yeah.” Offered the girl.

Catra's eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Yeah, I've been meaning to ask about that, you were being weird earlier.” Sabine sat between the two before answering. “Well, maybe I just knew that some stupid cat was gonna fuck with me today.” She earned snickers from the hybrid. “Honestly though, I'm not in the mood to explain, not now anyway. Maybe after a couple of drinks."

“Now you're speaking my language sister.” Said Chloe, fist-bumping with Sabine.

“Okay, well, when are we doing that? ‘Cus I find it unlikely that this place has alcohol, no matter how cool-…" Catra trailed off, noticing Chloe’s expression change to a smug one. She wiggled her eyebrows at the brunette, suggesting that Catra was wrong. “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way.” The two stared at each other, Catra waiting for Chloe's facade to break. Unfortunately, it did not, and as realization hit her, she grinned, her sharp canines showing. “You have got to be fucking kidding with me.” She laughed. “Surpriiiiise. You know there's always a good reason if I get real excited for something.”

Sabine looked at Catra quizzically. “How come you didn't notice? They have quite a few boards placed around here.” Catra shrugged, rubbing the back of her neck. It always comforted the hybrid back in the day, so it has become an instinct to rub herself there whenever she was embarrassed or anxious. She felt the prying eyes of her friends, waiting for Catra to answer, and she hated that. She felt her carefully constructed facade cracking, it's unstable foundations having had enough of the recent overtime.

She was saved by the rest of their squad arriving in their usual, non-intentionally dramatic way that seemed to assert dominance and announce that they were complete deviants, approaching the table in a half-circle. Chloe heard the ruckus and leaned to the side, her head just barely visible due to the wooden frames sheltering her from view, signaling them with a loud ‘yo’.

Three blondes of nordic descent. Two of them sisters, arguing over who could drink more ale without puking. The third blonde was having a staring contest, her eyelids threatening to close at the slightest mishap, grimacing as her tears fell, while her opponent, a blonde shapeshifter just smiled. There was a brown girl with dreadlocks holding her phone, laughing with a short, rainbow-haired and a tall white haired girl over some deep-fried memes. They approached the table and sat down randomly, giving each other hugs, high fives or fist-bumps, each form of greeting reflecting their personalities.

“So, how's everyone doing?” Asked the tall, muscular girl, her arms shaking in excitement.

“Well, I guess I can start.” Proposed the shapeshifter, Double Trouble, faking annoyance. They began describing their latest escapade that involved them inflitrating one of the most prestigious tv fashion show's backstage using their biological advantages to get an early glimpse of the dresses that would be worn at the grand finale. “I must admit, some of them are plain boring or unoriginal, but I guess that is to be expected.”

The same barista and or bartender from before came to take their orders in the meantime, her hands shaking just enough for someone to notice, if they were to pay attention. Again, the magicat was impressed by the variety of the things this ‘cafe’ had on the menu but appeared passive as she eyed their selection of drinks greedily, thinking about just going all out and get an order of each and every kind of shot they have. With their orders written down, she departed, but not before glancing at Catra, her initial horror replaced with something else. Confusion, sadness, but the strongest one, anger.

When she came back, her voice had an extra bit of chirpiness to it, handing out the respective orders to the girls. Pizza, burrito, fries, burgers and gyros for the majority, and sushi for Catra. Shortly after came the second wave with their beverages that were swiftly taken off of the plate or out of the bartender's hand. The squad was already occupied with eating their meals, although a few were devouring rather than eating, and the rest were content with taking small bites and savouring the taste.

The nordic girls and Scorpia were drinking mead, as per usual, with the remaining members drinking shots of vodka or whisky. Only DT was drinking wine, who was unphased by the usual remarks they got for 'being a pussy'.

After filling their bellies, they spent what remained of the day with getting a few more orders of alcohol or normal fuzzy drinks and water explaining what was happening in their lives as of now. The white haired girl, Samantha, aka Scorpia the scorpioni hybrid just moved away from her previous apartment to live together with her girlfriend, Patricia, who supplied the squad with the majority of their weed. The brown girl, Lonnie, just became a logistician at a local company, not even bothering to climb the corporate ladder due to them being content where they are in life, living together with her best friends, Kyle and Rogelio. Rae Dixon, or Dash, was still living in her cramped up apartment, too lazy to move out but still as energetic to go bike-racing as ever. The Hofferson sisters, Astrid and Camicazi were still competing over who was the better cop, their nature making sure their lives never get boring in the police department. Rachel Thorston, or Ruffnut for her friends, was running a trinket shop with her brother. How they managed to pull that one considering their chaotic nature, no one understood. Sabine was still doing her art projects as well, some for museums, some for graffiti competitions. Chloe was, of course, still working in her mother's diner, but she was just as content as she was when the cat-hybrid met her.

Now it was Catra's turn to talk about herself, something she hated doing, so instead she dodged the bullets suavely by asking Scorpia how Entrapta was doing. It worked only to delay the inevitable, all eyes on her.

It all came down to this. Her battle-hardened, cracked facade was on it's way to break, but she endured, stubborn as ever. She will never show weakness. She will not show any of her insecurities, her most raw, visceral emotions to anyone ever again. It was a promise she kept to herself ever since Her. No one was able to get through the barriers she raised, and she was not planning on doing so anytime soon, no matter how close she got to the people surrounding her.

“Oh, you know, the usual, getting money doing what I love,” Catra started counting on her hand, looking at the other one, as if inspecting her sharp claws nonchalantly.

“Playing with Melog a whole lot, smoking, idiots asking me on twitter whether or not I'll start drawing not safe for work stuff, getting high and drunk. Oh, and most importantly, going to Huntara's fight club to beat the shit out of people for money.” Finished the magicat, earning laughs from all around the table. DT squinted their eyes a tad before joining the laughter with a very impressive fake one of their own.

“Oh boy, I'm so glad you're doing better now Wildcat,” Said Scorpia, a warm, genuine smile on her face, her eyes beaming. “I was soooo worried you were never gonna get over-”

“Stop.” And with that, the mood changed. Now, the warm, soothing yellow glow of the lamp above gave a feeling of eeriness, the hairs on everyone's arms standing up in uneasiness. Catra's eyes narrowed, not actually staring holes into poor Scorpia's soul like she did in the past but attempting to cut one through the table. The tension was palpable, threatening to solidify and choke them all.

They all knew what it was about. The name of the one that must never be mentioned. Throughout their years of knowing each other as a close group of friends, they quickly learnt the hard way that Catra had a very traumatic and complicated past, one that they all yearnt to know more about, but the more they pried, the more closed off and angry the magicat became. It was difficult in the first few months, it still is to this day, but they knew when and what to avoid to upset Catra, but Scorpia's accidental slip-up cost them the mood for now, if not for the entire night. No one blamed the scorpioni though, they knew she cared a lot about the other hybrid, but she was also the one that suffered the price of Catra's rage. No one really had any in-depth idea as to what really happened, what made the magicat the way she is today, for Catra never told any of them much, saying it was something she'd rather not share with anyone and forget it if she could.

“I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ups-”

“I know, just shut up about it.” She was still looking at the table, taking long, inaudible breaths to calm herself, feeling anxiety crawl it's way into her head. All things considered, her reaction showed the night could still be saved. Sabine, who was still nursing her fourth shot of vodka, decided to down it all the way and initiate one of the squad's most ancient and sacred tradition. Talking about themselves, more specifically, what troubled them. Their own little therapy session, exposing their insecurities to talk with each other, deepening their bond. They mostly did it whenever they had a sleepover or party at one of a squad member's home, but this would have to do. She knows they all need it.

“Okay, so, I'm officially starting our usual therapy sessions, anyone in favor say; fuck the horde.”

“Fuck the Horde!” Came the answer from everyone, Catra's more timid and DT's more gentle. Whenever a therapy session was ongoing, Catra usually just stayed quiet, listening to her friends intently to show that she cared, but never made an attempt to explain how she felt. That was a privilege she granted to two beings. Melog, the cat that stumbled into her life when she was at her lowest point so far, snuggling through her darkness, making her fortified walls crumble from the purrs and melting her heart in a few minutes. The cat that felt like she was family….and Her.

Her most listened and all-time favourite song's lyrics invaded her mind, taking over her thoughts with it's sheer loudness, but she quickly kicked them out. That song, the instruments and the lyrics may never enter her mind in public, for it would do nothing but fasten the process of her facade breaking, and she will never allow herself to look weak in front of anyone…anyone except Her.

She snapped at herself. Not now. She'd have time to mope about her own problems when she was alone, physically at least. Spiritually, she was alone since…

“Okay, well, taking the first turn since I brought it up…” Sabine trailed off. Sabine, much like Catra, was not one to just talk about her feelings, so if she really wanted to talk about them, first one of the session not to mention, then something was really off. The hybrid furrowed her eyebrows in concern. She may have appeared and acted as insensitive a lot of times, but it wasn't who she was, not all the way, no matter how good she was at saying otherwise.

“Uhm, so you guys know how I have a friend of mine in the Liberation Front ever since this whole shit started,” Began Sabine, absentmindedly playing with the hem of her colorful slim-fit, long-sleeved t-shirt. The group nodded in unison, off-sync a little bit as the more energetic people nodded frantically.

“Well, I don't know if you guys have heard of the news yet, but apparently the Liberation Front was planning their last, grand offensive against the Horde, and, well, the last time I spoke with him he said he was being sent to the frontlines.” Worried glances and unspoken words of fear were exchanged with each other, still listening to what Sabine had to say. “Uh, y-yeah, I don't know, I mean I am obviously terrified of what might happen to him, but I mean he's been in this war for like, almost four years, so it's not like I should be worried, he did say he has been in shittier scenarios, but still, I just have this gut-wrenching feeling that…well…you know…” Words were unnecessary to explain what she meant. Silence filled the table, letting the harsh reality of the situation sink in.

After years of active warfare, neither side seemed closer to bring the war to an end, remisinscent of the times of the first world war, when advancing two meters just to dig another trench for weeks was considered a victory. The population of Bright Moon spent a lot of time gossiping about the war, about how it might reach them one day, or discuss whatever piece of information was revealed to the public by the army to the media. The girls spent a lot of time discussing the war too, obviously, and whatever theories they had from military offensives to secret movie-like undercover operations to amuse themselves. Everyone prayed the Liberation Front would come out on top, seeing no-one wanted to taste totalitarian regime again. In the last couple of months however, something happened that the public was unaware of; Catra first proposed that it was a series of undercover sabotages and infiltrations that got the Etherian army the advantage over the Horde, which seemed to make the most sense, that is if one thinks Scorpia's theory of the soldiers getting a cathartic, motivational speech from their superiors who sit at the back makes sense.

“Yeah, I heard some stuff too, apparently the army's planning on blasting through Hordia with everything they've got." Added Scorpia to the pile of info thrown around.

“If they can just blitzkrieg it all, it might work out easy-peasy." Joked Rae.

“That seems rather reckless if you ask me.” Said Camicazi.

“Especially if they spread too wide, their logistics team will just commit suicide.” Snorted Lonnie.

“Well, you never know, if they manage to break through their defenses and seize the capital, the Horde might throw up the white flag." Pondered Astrid.

“See, the way I see it is, even if they manage to take it, that could also possibly result in the separatists getting more tenacious. We know how the soviets kicked ass after '42, right?” Mused Ruffnut, rubbing her chin in thought, grinning like a madwoman.

Chloe cackled. “I think there's just a tiny bit of difference between the Horde and the soviets,”

“The fact that the Soviet Union is superior!” Shouted Ruffnut, standing up while raising her mug. Some of the patrons looked in their direction, even if they couldn't actually see anything, either shaking their head or laughing alongside the group. Catra just smacked her forehead hard enough to leave a mark for a while. She averted her attention, finding DT, looking at their phone. Their unusual silence unnerved Catra, despite DT often choosing not to partake in their theorizing.

“Hey, DT, you found something?” Everyone turned to the shapeshifter, who grew worried with each passing second as they scrolled through whatever they were reading.

“You guys might want to check the news…” Phones were dug out of their pockets in record time, clicking on their news feed. The reactions were various. Gasps, widened eyes, hands over their mouth, a combination of these three, or silence. Like wildfire, the rest of the cafe seemed to pick up on the news, exchanging gossips in hushed voices, worried that they might draw the Horde closer if they're otherwise too loud.

Disaster at the final hour. Has the Liberation Front fallen?

According to the news written by an anonymous publisher the Etherian army's latest operation has been a tragedy, to put it slightly. Any punctual detail regarding the losses and the overall outcome was left in the dark, but the grimly written article mentioned firefights happening in several Etherian controlled towns and camps behind their very own lines, and that Hordia was utterly devastated, described as the 'Stalingrad of Etheria' by the author. It is said that the 2nd Army was responsible for taking the city by all means necessary, but the urban terrain limited their ability to move and see, and that the city was full of traps. Apparently even the civilians opened fire on the military, who had no choice but to fire back. The author said after the initial contact the rest went downhill very fast. As soon as the army began receiving shots from all directions by the separatists and civilians alike, the rest of the frontline awoke, as if they were waiting for this moment. It is unclear whether or not the conflict has ended or not, but the fight began almost a week ago.

The girls' eyes were glued to their phones, scanning each and every word carefully, as if they had to recite it for class. Catra's tail puffed out slightly, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“All things considered, it doesn't seem all that bad.” Said Scorpia, her arms turning red from anxiety, unwillingly changing her arms into their scorpioni pincers, clinking their tips together.

“If things weren't bad, they wouldn't have kept it a secret for this long.” Catra berated, her mismatched eyes not leaving her screen. They spent a good while pondering on the possibility of the army losing. Regardless of how unlikely that was to occur, it planted a vile seed in everyone's mind, spreading faster than anticipated. More shots were ordered, and the bartender from before came to get their drinks, visibly disturbed. Scorpia asked if she was okay or if she could help, but she politely rejected, stuttering a little bit. Catra also noticed her pink eyes…they're glassy. She has someone close to her in the army, thought Catra. She just then noticed a silver-looking ball-chain hanging on her neck, neatly tucked away by her pink shirt, but not neatly enough for the magicat to not notice. A dogtag. The brunette's eyebrows shot up in surprise. As the bartender walked away, Catra noticed one more thing. Her gait was mostly even, but every few steps she would limp with her right leg. Catra had so many questions she felt like writing a list would be more than necessary.

Their drinks came once more, and Catra eyed the bartender with intent. “Here's your order girls, hope you know where the limit is, also, if you'd like to try we have-" The attempt at small talk and possible persuasion to buy more alcohol was cut of by the cat-hybrid.

“Hey," All eyes were on her. Catra didn't care about the bartender, but since she was military, she would show respect and sound polite and concerned, even if all she wanted was to get answers. “I know it's rude to just ask you about this, but, I saw your dogtag…” The temperature seemed to go down, their breath almost visible due to the bone-chilling cold that settled in around the table. The bartender turned rigid, the rest of the girls following suit, anxiously waiting for what might happen next. There was a grandfather clock next to the table they sat, only separated by the stairs that led downstairs where a furnished gaming room was set up. The combined amount of noise created from downstairs and all the other patrons vanished, instead replaced by the ticking of the clock.

“Do you have any idea what's going on?”

Each passing second, a millenia, back and forth, all too familiar to the well-known enigma. Time itself has been waiting for this moment ever since there was time. A combination of events and choices made by hundreds, if not thousands of people from the past, that lead to here, to this specific moment, for this specific magicat. To sculpt her destiny, whatever it might be.

Tick

The bartender was impassive for a few millenia before her facial expression turned into a display of emotions…first it was…fear.

Tock

The fate of the country in the hands of the floundering army…the safety of her friends who were far, far away…then came grief.

Tick

Mourning the ones whose lives were possibly stripped away for all she knew…then came anger.

Tock

She looked at Catra, tears ready to escape at any moment. Her free hand formed a fist, the other squeezing the serving tray.

“You don't get to ask me that…”

Tick

She breathed, barely containing what could only have been pent-up rage, confusing everyone at the table, especially Catra. Sure, it was an insensitive question, but it shouldn't have been a big deal, it was just a question regarding the state of the war, she had no intention to wound her by asking whether her friend or friends were alive or dead, even if she did indirectly just ask that.

Tock

“I'm sorry, I didn-”

Tick

“Forget it…”

Said the bartender, her fury replaced by something else, evident by her shaky voice. She looked up at the people in front of her, the girls giving her looks of pity and concern. “I know none of you give the slightest shit about us…” She looked at the magicat.

Tock

“I know you don't care…” It may have been a whisper, but it carved it's way into Catra's mind.

Tick

“What do you mean?”

Tock

Why call her out specifically? Thought everyone at the table. The ticking seemed to amplify, resonating, making everything rumble gently. The bartender's tears escaped despite her efforts. She sniffed, looking at Catra, her eyes, the gateway to one's soul, an indescribable mess.

Tick

“Did…did you get a letter? Like, like a message?" She asked, her heart having a hard time deciding between stopping or hammering hard enough to shatter her bones.

Tock

Barbwire seemed to settle itself in the throats of the two. Catra's fur stood on end, her slit-shaped eyes dilating. “Y-yeah, I got some text from a random number but didn't read it, thought it was some stupid spam or whatever…” She tried to play it off casually, leaning back into the cozy bench, her arms folded. She tried to smile, either to reassure herself or the others, but a choked sob from the bartender seemed to shatter whatever was left of Catra's prideful act of indifference.

Tick

The bartender put a hand over her mouth in vain, to mask her broken cries. Something welled up inside Catra, something so other-worldly, so ominous that she could not even comprehend. The closest word for this feeling is dread. But that word did the feeling no justice, almost mocking it for the usage of such a word.

Tock

They stared at each other right in the eyes, the human's pair of pink ones and the cat's blue and yellow.

Tick

“She's dead…”

Tock

And with that, the ticking stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, that's it for today I suppose, I hope it was enjoyable. Again, if you really want me to continue the story, consider leaving a comment and/or kudos to let me know if there's still an interest for this.
> 
> Have a nice day/night. :)


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